Long Supplant Poems
Long Supplant Poems. Below are the most popular long Supplant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Supplant poems by poem length and keyword.
Dawn slowly awakened to supplant the moon
Empty, the canopy where stars had been strewn
In repose, Luna slept after wandering velvet skies
and spider webs shimmered in the flight of sunrise
Dew drops evaporated upon the fragrant tuberose
as a playful breeze billowed my sheer nightclothes
Seagulls swooped and scurried along amber shores
A salty crew grappled with the sea on labored oars
Muscles pulled in rhythmic chorus, as if in lyrical rote
as surging waves rocked the hull of their fishing boat
They surpassed each crest and triumphed over swells
The sun's prisms painted the horizon in muted pastels
Inspired by the milieu of ruffled swirls across the sea
sunlight dappled over its surface in sequenced litany
I sipped a second cup as thoughts were being seeded
Poetry spawned inside of me; a birthing to be heeded
For as driftwood hastens down rapids to a new frontier
I needed to ledger my verses, ere they hie to disappear
August 13, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 12 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Don’t chop down,
nor be quick
to tear her down,
limb by limb.
Your lumbering fever,
at task. Won’t last!
Move your harbinger
out of my yard.
I feel your heartbeat,
pressed upon.
I link my hands,
to embrace
your bark.
Grandkids, sing
and dance
near your roots:
Similitude ovation
of generations.
My forest is small,
only to you all.
For me, it has
a Tinman’s heart.
The leafy surround,
swooshing in Summer
storms, whirligigging
in Autumn chill.
I peek at the moon;
it’s a game of over
and under. Her brightness
contrasts with dark limbs.
Always and forever,
even if I must go -
must I make like a tree
and leave one day?
I’ll find true trees
in paradise. No serpents,
to supplant you.
Some random questions this morning…whose answers I anxiously await…
If love is the answer, as I believe it is, why is the world filled with so much hate?
To leaders in this country and across the world, who I was brought up thinking to be wise:
Tell me…when did the art of war…supplant the art of compromise?
Whether in our neighborhood, our state, our country…or somewhere across the sea:
When did anyone we disagree with become our enemy?
And to anyone who uses their religion to hate and distort the spiritual point of view
this next question goes out specifically to you:
Is this the kind of person you want whatever God you believe in seeing
as you, in your God’s name, shame, degrade and devaluate another human being?
Here’s a question throughout the years so many people have asked before:
Will there ever come a time we understand how war only breeds more war?
When children see their parents and family members killed…
When they’re left homeless in the night…
Will they be quick to forgive or…
Are we creating another generation filled with hate and hungry for a fight?
Will our younger generation be able to see past their fear, their anger…their hate?
Will they be able to discuss, to compromise, to concur….
Will they be kinder, more accepting and much wiser than we were?
This last question goes out to the younger generation….
If you’re to lead us out of this abyss:
Is your soul too high a price to pay for power…
Think carefully:
our future depends on how you answer this!
Lingering light dwindles among the horizon
Twilight fades with a farewell from the sun
Shadows disappear as stars sprinkle the sky
with the moon illuminating those who walk by
Woods appear so much more ominous at night
silent blackness causing an overwhelming fright
Trees are like charcoal – inky blankets all around
as nocturnal animals hunt without making a sound
Country paths seem lifeless in the eerie dark
occasionally disturbed by a guard dog’s bark
Temperatures fall with the mid winter freeze
people feel the chill with the cold air breeze
Day light sneaks in as the sun begins to rise
the moon and stars hide away in disguise
Patiently waiting for the darkness to reappear
so they can play again, when humans disappear.
~~~
Soft amber and glistening gold hesitate on the horizon
Melting mysteries of silence and glowing a surprise in
Creating kindness that flows from rivers in graceful sighs
Healing, encouraging and enlightening as it does chastise
Miracles, bold and vibrant, awaken the heart to delights
Enriched by truths discovered in dancing rays of insights
Rich hues of crimson memories float across my mind
As the music of heaven’s graceful vibrance leaves behind
Memories I’ll treasure as I walk through this rich life
Where beauties surround me and keep me from strife
Inspiration walks past the silent breathes of imagination
And I welcome the gifts that enlighten and thrill from creation
Where gentlest sparks of joy cultivate with hope to enchant
Giving me gifts from heaven that will eventually supplant
All the worries that haunt me and live in the shadows within
Where longings for the promises of God’s love does begin
Collaboration with the Silent One Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Silent One’s verse in Bold
Written on October 16, 2020
Does the lowered eye mark one, prey?
Do mild manners detain the heirs of courage,
And supplant servile, simpering cowards
Who cater to the whims of the bullish,
And ill-manner’d?
The furrowing of the brow, upon meeting
The eyes, a smouldering hate inferred?
Prithee, tell the need of an otherwise
Noble man
To seek to humble one he knows not;
But in all hubristic error,
Deem a lesser man—
Tho' the gods smite—
Could sooner be his ending
Than any beginning of cruelty
He would defer.
I beg thee, pass softly—
For oft' times
The gods walk among us,
Unknown
And clothed in beggar's
Rags.
But here we would tend
The perception of
The common man,
Of which we all are.
Were our titles stripped from us,
Gold and coin, that seat us
Well with advantage, prestige,
And resource scarce divided
Among those without,
Relieved us—
How far would we fall
Before our imagined realms
And self set crowns
Shatter and break
Upon the humble ground
That wrought us up
Through fortunes fated,
Or generations generous
With years honest toils and labors?
In sooth these ephemeral devices
Aside—
Prick'd, our blood
Bares but one shade
That of red.
All else are machinations
Of the brain,
Where the ego
Would stroke us with
Affirmations of
Such lofty natures
That we would see
One another as
High and low,
Vengeance' victim
Or as one justified
To take beyond the need,
Lest the low squander
The fruitful seed.
And utopia become too common a place,
Thus polluted with the common blood.
Nay.
The true utopia, if thou seekest,
Is humble fellowship,
Compassion, and sacrifice;
For all idylls may not be attained
All at once.
Let them be of such
Continually strived toward
And lived, and roads walked.
See not my eyes lowered—
See thy brother,
See thy sister,
See thy humble family
Through trial and fortune's favor,
Together.
Lovingly Dedicated to My Closest Friend, My Mother
My loving friend can caress cares away.
With simple gestures meant to pleasure sway,
She turns my smile upright and firms its stay.
Such kindness meets my same, I do oft pray.
As balm she soothes incurred hurt, ache and pain.
Together, life’s rude battles lose their strain
As handled by our combined wit and brain.
I hope her loving light will never wane.
She matters so much to my fragile heart
That I view her as my dear counterpart.
We sometimes separate, but never part.
I love her laughter, value her brain-smart.
We grow and change like season’s nature hues.
With candor we explore life’s many clues,
And, God knows, we both paid quite hefty dues.
As precious gift, our friendship joys accrue.
What she may need, I pray to aptly grant.
What dims her joy, I strive to best supplant.
What hurts her feelings, I seek to decant.
What her heart wants, becomes my own heart’s chant.
Gloom blooms as more bombs boom;
Even saints are tainted by crimson stains.
Fears tear through cradle-cries,
And withered blood floods the clustered gutters.
A prowl of projectiles surrounds their bounds;
Wounds whine on a round ground.
Pleas fail to heal the skin’s impetigo—
As silence stains the lens.
Then violence dons another garment,
While silence lies dormant;
Cries from festered wounds pry the dry, wry air,
As echoes crawl along.
All goes to soothe egos,
They boast with coats of loathes in floated boats,
In self-conceit concerts,
They celebrate nothing, noting no woe.
Wicked wicks don’t wink weak,
They sow discord and spit splintered discourse,
They supplant hate as baits,
And their words plunge the world to more dangers.
Peace peeks through a bombed hole at round tables,
Yet war speaks through their mouths;
Those who would quell the spell still sow their guile,
While skies scold, souls lie cold.
They say "peace, peace" but there's no peace
It's a bare knuckle world from what I see
Publicly speaking niceties only to please
But in the shadows is a flexing spree
Posturing to intimidate and fleece
Factions rolling out to a tee
Their own spread, occupying and increase
To raise themselves from discourse to decree
But the subtleness on the surface shows nothing amiss
As the suffering and lament continues to be
Show me a man ready to loose his grip
On whatever spoils or advantage
They may loose good health and sleep
And threatening to too soon age
That they may amass as much to keep
For an inheritance to their heritage
For the future's costs tend to abhor being cheap
And in favour of every commercial adage
As life becomes gold and silver deep
And the old stays are lessened from the stage
Terms of peace so long as you keep at bay
There will be smiles and claps on grant
And the niceties they say
Are as long as you forfeit what you want
This is not the peace for which we pray
That we should surrender to those who supplant
But peace on every side of our keep and stay
That the measure pressed down and running over in our chant
May be ours to steward; not theirs to sway
If we be righteously indignant
K. Muitherero
Written: August 15, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Quote: "Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead, let life live through you. And do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know that the side you are used to is better than the one to come?" By Rumi
*******
Once, I danced a duet of defiance,
a crisp sigh in the stillness of the cosmos—
until the sickle sang,
and the scythe, a leering doppelgänger,
shattered my days from the rosy veil of illusion.
A pavonine sky gasped through heavy clouds.
Each drop of light is a solitary hymn of the soul,
The pestilence, unseen by vermin, persists.
But with a smile too zoetic to be merciful.
Alchemy abandoned me.
not the quest for transmuted gold,
but the unraveling of verity—
in the ravenous search for reason,
that cast me into the woods of skepticism,
where even the stars seemed to stutter.
I swirled in a river of oblivion.
washed my eyes in the katabatic abyss,
abjured the glamor of who I once was,
and grasped the clamor of who I’d become—
a wild soul of weary hopes,
jerked by the jussive hands of power.
The world turned polyphonic—
each voice is a tapestry of longing and disdain,
each echo is a lamentation of pain,
I found myself intrigued by my rival shadow.
a weary iconoclast with an ischemic soul.
Yet amid the swirling tempest,
A glimmer of veridical light coruscated—
not to supplant the ache,
but to celebrate it,
to twist it into a desideratum purpose.
I learned to stammer abyssal words,
to embrace the loneliness of silence,
to whirl with my wounds
and gaze through my eyes.
where bees buzzed with chaotic harmony.
The sky is now stained by nighttime decay.
I do not falter in my voice.
I do not renounce.
In my wreckage, I stand resilient—
marvelous in my courage.
The sunset is no longer my downfall.
it casts a shadow across my soul—
a flame that bends and sways,
a celestial scar.
A life altered, yet intact in its last breath,
yet with a willingness to embrace life.
Accept the "Holy Fathers" stains?
What prideful tolerance sustains
The acts by priestly "Confessors"
Whose transgressions we all deplore.
Their molestations cause such pain
That no repentance can explain
To parishes stretched far and wide -
To innocents they cast aside.
Religious aristocracy,
Duplicitous conformity,
Accepted this hypocrisy -
This predatory blasphemy.
Faux piety to hide their shame,
Disdaining good and shielding blame;
No deft Indulgence could resolve -
No Inquisition would absolve.
Despicable to humankind,
By words and deeds now left behind;
No con nor lies supplant the proof:
The mirror to self-damning truth.
These crimes, these aggravated sins -
Atrocities no words can spin,
Nor can appeal 'yond earthly reign
For acquiesced eternal stains.